Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

‘Age hasn’t improved you any, has it? You still have the manners of a two-year-old.’

Zander clapped his hands. ‘Excellent. I’d forgotten you all knew each other. David, why don’t you sort out DCI Steel and DS McRae, and I’ll get back to work? ’

‘But-’

‘Time and principal photography waits for no man.’

Insch closed his eyes, massaged his temples, teeth bared between thin trembling lips. ‘Cool wet grass, cool wet grass. .’

Nothing ever changed.

‘She broke in through there.’ Insch pointed at a window about six foot off the ground. A set of black bars were bolted over the opening, a ‘WET PAINT!!!’ sign hanging beneath them.

Steel puckered her lips, looking up at the bars. ‘Nothing like bolting the stable door, eh? ’

Insch turned his back on her and marched off down the corridor, soured mouth working on another carrot stick. Strange seeing him walk like that, all rangy and long-limbed, instead of the lumbering mass he used to be.

Logan followed him. ‘So how long have you been with Crocodildo Productions? ’

‘I’m not: doesn’t exist any more. The props department is just down here.’

Steel scuttled up beside them. ‘What? No. Come on, that’s no’ funny!’

‘As Zander says: no one appreciates the art any more. What’s the point going to all that effort to create something beautifully written and acted and shot, when all anyone ever does is fast-forward to the sex? ’

‘But that’s the good bit!’

‘The final straw came when someone sent him a link to an illegal porn download site. They’d made a compilation of all the. . finale shots from every one of his movies. All his effort and creativity reduced to that . No wonder he gave it up.’ Insch stopped in front of a door marked ‘DEPARTMENT OF VARIOUS THINGS’ and swiped his ID card through the reader fixed on the wall beside it. The little red light went green. He nodded towards a security camera mounted in the corner, with a clear field of view down the corridor. ‘We had all this fitted after the break-in. Insurance company insisted.’

Steel scratched at her right boob. ‘But he can’t give up, he was. . It’s not right.’

Insch hauled open the door. ‘Of course, I’d always wanted to work in film, so when I bumped into Zander at the Rotary Club we got talking. He invited me onboard for Crocodildo’s last cinerotography project: The Girl with the Dildo Tattoo . We won twelve Woodies for that.’

Steel curled her top lip and backed off a couple of paces. ‘Eew. .’

He scowled at her. Then dipped into his bag and produced another carrot stick. ‘I wasn’t in it, I was second unit director.’

‘Oh, thank God for that. The thought of you, in the nip, humping away at some poor woman. Flaps of skin flippity-flopping all over the shop. .’ Shudder.

She had a point.

‘Have you finished? ’

A shrug. ‘Tell you, if I could bleach away the mental image, I would.’

Logan stepped through into the Department of Various Things, leaving them nipping at each other in the corridor. The props department was about the size of a school assembly room, laid out with racks and racks of costumes in neatly ordered rows on one side, and modular shelving units on the other, laden with various bits and pieces. Everything from standard lamps to swords, bibles to handguns, all marked with little cardboard tags.

He picked a Glock 9mm from the collection. Hauled back the slide, then clacked it back into place.

A voice at his shoulder: ‘Good, aren’t they? ’

Logan turned. ‘You just leave these lying around? ’

A little woman with big glasses smiled back at him, small fleshy lumps speckling her dimpled cheeks. She was wearing a T-shirt with ‘BECAUSE PROP MISTRESS SAYS SO, THAT’S WHY!’ on it. ‘They’re using them this afternoon for three-seventy-one, if they get that far. Need a good clean first, checked for blockages — I’m not having a Brandon Lee on my watch, thank you very much. Otherwise they’re kept in the safe, with the ammunition and the firing pins.’

She dug into a shoulder bag and produced an iPad in an identical red leather cover to Excitable Jack, the film’s go-to guy. ‘The tags are all barcoded, they’re scanned when the guns are signed out and when they’re signed back in again.’ She held the pad up and pressed something. A click, then a bleep. She turned the screen to face Logan. It was a spreadsheet with names, dates, times, and scene numbers. ‘We’re very, very strict about it.’

‘So you’ve got a list of everything that’s gone missing? ’

That produced a small grimace. ‘Don’t get me started. I know this place looks like a junkshop, but every single thing in here has been handpicked for a set or a scene. And anything we couldn’t buy we’ve made, so replacing this stuff isn’t just a case of nipping down to Asda with a shopping list. When we started out we were way too trusting: cloaks, hats, props, daggers, medals. . You name it, someone would nick it.’

She wandered over to another set of shelves, this one full of red leather notebooks. The bottom three shelves looked brand new, but the ones on the fourth were in varying stages of wear and tear. ‘These are always the favourites. You wouldn’t believe how many Dittay books we’ve had to make.’ She picked one up and handed it to him. ‘Started off tooling the designs on the leather by hand, but so many went missing we had to get a die made. Everyone wants a souvenir.’

Logan ran a finger over the intricate pattern of curlicues and swirls set into the cover. It was identical to the one he’d found in Agnes Garfield’s bedroom under the stairs. ‘Dittay books? ’

Insch’s deep, dark voice rumbled through the room. ‘Sixteenth century. They called the list of charges brought against people accused of witchcraft “dittays”. That’s what got you tried and burned at the stake.’

The prop mistress took the book from Logan’s hand and put it back on the rack. ‘All the Fingermen have to have at least one. They’re quite important to the plot.’

‘How many did Agnes Garfield get away with? ’

Another grimace. ‘Bad enough she took a couple of blanks, but she nabbed the main Rowan one too. Do you have any idea how much effort goes into making them look real and used? How many hours I spent, hunched over that bloody book, writing in all the dittays and sigils and notes. .’

Insch folded his arms across his chest. Not as impressive a sight as it used to be, especially with the dangly bingo wings poking out from the sleeves of his polo shirt. ‘She’s lucky we didn’t press charges.’

DCI Steel slouched into the prop room, hands in her pockets, shoulders slumped. She pursed her lips, looked around. Sniffed. ‘Right: this is boring the arse off me. If no one’s shagging, we’re going.’

She swung around and stomped off, back down the corridor.

Insch stared after her. ‘You know, you could probably arrange some kind of accident. I’d give you an alibi: you were with me the whole time.’

‘Don’t tempt me.’

They followed her out of the prop room, Insch’s hand dipping into the bag of carrots every three or four steps, conveying another bright-orange stick into his mouth. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. ‘Is Rennie still. .? ’

‘A pain in the backside? Yeah. He’s on a major whinge at the moment, because Steel keeps-’

A woman’s voice echoed down the corridor behind them. ‘David? ’

Insch froze. Then pulled on a smile. And turned. ‘Nichole! I’ve been reviewing yesterday’s rushes — the bath scene was terrific, you were great: such emotional intensity.’